


The Ballad of Bucky and Steve

by sassgardianlass (misshiss)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Bonnie & Clyde, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Gangsters, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mad Science, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Speakeasies, Steve Rogers Feels, Top Bucky Barnes, Vintage Cars, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, cross dressing for a higher purpose, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misshiss/pseuds/sassgardianlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Suddenly he felt Bucky’s fingers brushing against his wrist bone, a gentle flicker of warmth. Steve looked up at him, eyes wide and more than a little desperate. He wanted this so much and he knew, just knew, that Bucky was going to give it to him if only he asked. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t ask for it only to be hurt all over again. He couldn’t pull back his hand either, though. That single point of contact was all he could feel. Breathing through his nose, he watched Bucky’s fingers rub soothing circles into the delicate flesh, over the vein shimmering green under his skin. So fragile, so easy to tear open. He let out a shuddering breath and turned his hand to give Bucky better access.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A year ago they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Now Bucky and Steve are on the run from the law and their lives might end in a hail of bullets rather than eternal bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kayaczek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayaczek/gifts).



> So this is mostly to satisfy my thirst for Bucky and Steve dancing. :D And for Kayaczek who wanted a Christmas story. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but it's all yours. <3

It went like this: Bucky Barnes walked into a bar, met the love of his life and they bought a house with a white picket fence where they lived happily ever after.

Needless to say that it didn’t happen this way.

Bucky Barnes walked into a bar, swaying under the weight of his own smugness. He had three dollars in his pockets, which he’d earned fairly and squarely, if you considered unloading crates of giggle juice in the dead of night an honest profession. It was tedious, back-breaking work, but at least he’d be able to make rent this week and maybe get to dance the night away at Kreuzer’s, the best place to go if you wanted to find yourself a pretty queenie for the night.

The bar wasn’t really a bar, but a diner. Bucky rarely saw it when it was actually light outside so it took some getting used to it now. He’d just get a cup of joe and go home to sleep until it was time to head out and sample some of the hooch he’d helped bring into the city.

He sat at the counter, dangling his legs and waiting for someone to take his order. He did have a very specific someone in mind, of course, but he just liked sitting here. It was warmer than out on the streets and it was cheap enough for him to afford. The sweet smell wafting in from the kitchen reminded him of his mama’s kitchen, made him even pull off his cap and place it next to his elbow. He wasn’t welcome at his mama’s table anymore, but that didn’t mean he could just forget his manners, right? He’d just rest his eyes for a second, let the tightness seep out of him. Chrissakes, his shoulders hurt. He’d have to find someone to rub away the pain later tonight. Kreuzer would know whom to talk to. But for now he was just gonna rest a second.

“Buck, you can’t sleep here.” A gentle hand ghosted over Bucky’s hair, scratching his scalp for just a second and he had to hold in the purr trying to escape his lips. Steve’s hands on him had become a bit of a rare treat, which only made it better whenever it happened. Bucky missed the days when Steve and he had slept in one bed, laughing and talking until the sun tickled their toes. But that was over now, no need to cry over spilled milk and all that.

Bucky opened his eyes and hastily wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth before looking up and giving Steve his best charming smile. Steve just raised his eyebrows at him and Bucky reduced the Watt to the bare minimum. This kind of thing was wasted on Steve anyway.

“I wasn’t sleeping, doll. Just rested my eyes. Had quite a bit of work last night. Just bring me a cup of joe and a Coney Island chicken, willya?”

Steve looked like he had something to say about Bucky’s nightly activities, but he just shrugged and went to the small window behind the counter to give the order back to the cook. Filling a cup with the weak, luke-warm coffee the diner was infamous for, he turned to Bucky. “Telling you that this is stupid and you’re gonna get caught one day is probably not gonna make you change your mind, right?”

Bucky’s facial muscles were weary, too. He pulled them up anyway, giving Steve another dazzling smile, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do. Of course it was stupid and he would most definitely go to the big house one day, but there was nothing else he could do. He had to eat. He had to pay rent money, both his and Steve’s (although Steve didn’t exactly know about that), he had to make sure he looked his best. All of these things cost money and it wasn’t like employers were raking the streets for young highschool drop-outs like Bucky. Another factory had closed last week, spilling hundreds of hungry men with hungry children onto the streets. This wasn’t the age of honest work, not if you were Bucky Barnes, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make a living anyhow.

“Course I know, doll. But a man’s gotta eat, right?”

He kicked his feet against the counter, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of Steve, but he just kept wiping some mugs. They looked perfectly clean to Bucky, but he wasn’t very good with that sort of thing, not like Steve who always knew how to make everything look pretty. He remembered gathering leaves with Steve one fall. He’d pressed them between the only two books in their apartment and then glued them to two old chipped glasses. When they’d put candles inside, the leaves had lit up from within, throwing their red and golden shadows over their smiling faces.

“Stevie?” Bucky asked and he was half-satisfied that Steve flinched.

“What? I’m working. I can’t be caught flapping my gums. I actually need this job because unlike you I have nothing else to fall back on.”

That last bit had been vicious and Bucky actually flinched back himself, just a little. For someone so pretty and tiny, Steve knew had to deal a fella a blow. At least verbally. But they were past fighting now or Bucky was anyway. He had three dollars and he meant to spend those on Steve, whether he wanted them or not.

“Go out with me tonight. To Kreuzer’s.”

Steve rubbed at the rim of the cup he had been cleaning for the past five minutes now. “I can’t.”

“You said you wanted us to be friends, didn’t you? Friends go out together. I earned three dollars last night.”

“What did you do to get them?”

Bucky let out a long sigh this time, no longer feeling like keeping up the chipper façade. Steve was gonna make this difficult for him and he had every right to do so, but Bucky really, really wished they could get past this and, maybe, just go out as friends and have fun together for once. Steve had been the one to insist they stay friends. Bucky would have been happy with just watching Steve from afar, letting him spend Bucky’s money without ever knowing about it and leading a good life.

“I unloaded a fuck ton of hooch crates and almost dislocated my shoulders doing it. Okay?” He knew he sounded aggressive now, but he couldn’t quite control himself. It wasn’t his fucking fault that the stock market had crashed along with everyone’s hopes and dreams. He’d done what he had to in order to survive and if Steve didn’t like his methods, well, he’d never complained about the food Bucky had put on their table, had he?

Resting his forehead on his arms, he tried to block out both Steve and the pain in his back. It wouldn’t do him any good anyway. What was done was done, and now he would just have to find a way to live with himself and without Steve.

Suddenly he felt gentle hands rubbing at the knots in his shoulder blades. “Keep doing that,” he murmured.

“I had no intention of stopping. Keep your gob shut, jerk.”

Steve’s fingers were small, but surprisingly strong as he kneaded Bucky’s tired muscles, coaxing them into compliance until his head didn’t feel like bursting anymore. Steve had to lean over the counter to do this, giving Bucky a chance to smell him. Lemons, flour and something that was just Steve. He’d missed it, but he didn’t really have it back so he didn’t allow himself to get lost in the smell completely. Steve’s fingers moved over his neck and on to the back of his head, rubbing soothing circles into Bucky’s tired flesh.

“That’s my doll,” he murmured in encouragement.

Steve’s gentle warmth was gone in an instant. “Will you stop coming if I go out with you tonight? I really need this job, Bucky.”

Bucky, not Buck. He’d been pushing his luck too hard. With a sigh Bucky sat up and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together. Like old times.”

Steve sighed, but nodded. A moment later the cook shoved the plate of food through the slit in the wall, but Bucky wasn’t really hungry anymore. The hotdog didn’t even look appealing enough to take it back home for later. “You can keep it.” 

Steve looked like he had something to say about that, but Bucky didn’t stick around long enough to hear it. The bell over the door whistled as he stepped out of the diner and into the pale October morning. Leaves rustled around his feet as he made his way down to his own street and his crappy apartment. The heating didn’t really work most of the time and the walls and ceilings were mouldy, but it was all he could afford, even with three jobs. He probably could have afforded better if he hadn’t been paying Steve’s rent. But stopping that was completely out of the question. Flopping onto his creaky old bed, Bucky sighed. The mould looked even worse from this position, like it was gonna drop down onto his face any minute like bird shit or something.

A year ago he would have woken up at around this time, Steve’s head warm and heavy on his chest, blond hair tickling Bucky’s nose, and he would have kissed him goodbye before going to work at the factory. He would have spent twelve hours making cans for soup he couldn’t afford buying. But he would come home with money at the end of the week. Keeping Steve in at least a little comfort was all he’d ever wanted. But it hadn’t worked.

Steve needed medicine for his asthma and he needed meat and milk and a fuck ton of other expensive stuff that the factory job just didn’t provide. Bucky had had the choice between seeing Steve die and saving him. He’d chosen the second option and if Steve was gonna hate him forever for what he’d done, fine. He could live with that.

He just wished he could tell Steve the truth. But that was a thought he’d better not examine right now. He needed to sleep so he’d actually have the energy to take Steve out later.

-

Bucky woke to a piece of mouldy plaster hitting him in the forehead. Francine from the apartment above his was practicing her dancing again, it seemed. She had got it into her head that she and her boyfriend were going to win one of the twenty-four hour dancing competitions held in secret locations all over the city. A hundred bucks for whoever won those. Bucky and Steve had tried, back in the day, but Steve had fallen asleep against Bucky’s shoulder after ten hours, too tired to keep upright anymore, and Bucky hadn’t had the hard to drag a sleepy, cuddly Steve across the dance floor for another fourteen hours. Although he probably could have.

Stretching his arms over his head, he allowed himself a jaw-cracking yawn and moved his head from side to side to work out the kinks in his neck. He went to the closet wedged into the corner to get his good suit, well, his _only_ suit, and made himself look as presentable as he was ever going to get. His good shoes were only marginally less cuffed than his regular ones, but he’d rubbed enough soot into them to at least make them look black the night before. He was ready.

Steve only lived two streets away, but Bucky ran all the way anyway, partly to make himself wake up properly, partly because he was worried that Steve was going to change his mind and maybe be gone by the time Bucky reached his apartment. There was a steady throng of people winding their way through the streets even now. Most of them looked hungry. Maybe there was a soup kitchen somewhere around the corner. They came and went, always drawing the masses as soon as word got out. Bucky was glad he’d never had to resort to eating there himself. At least he had a roof over his head and money for the bare necessities. He wasn’t sure he could have lived the way those people did. It wasn’t him he was concerned about; he’d always been good at taking care of himself. But he needed the money for Steve.

Pushing aside the misery of others, he rubbed his hands together and quickened his pace.

The wind had picked up in the few hours he’d been asleep. Leaves and cigarette buds danced around his ankles, almost like they were getting ready for a night of drunken revels themselves. He hurried along with them, letting them blow him all the way to Steve’s door step.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, checked his appearance in the window and knocked on the apartment door. For a moment he was worried that no one was going to open, that Steve wasn’t going out with him after all. Then the door opened a crack, revealing Steve in his best suit. The shadows of insomnia and sickness ringed his eyes, but he was smiling a little.

“I’ll be right there. Just have to feed Nat first.”

The cat appeared at Bucky’s feet, rubbing her small red head against his ankles. He reached down to scratch her ears. “Are you guys all right on meat? I could probably-“

“We’re fine.” Steve picked up the cat, carrying her into the apartment and shutting the door in Bucky’s face. He wasn’t welcome here. He could pick up Steve, he could even take him dancing, but he wasn’t going to be a part of his inner circle and he wasn’t going to be allowed a glimpse of Steve’s new life.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Bucky leaned against the wall beside Steve’s door, waiting. He’d forfeited his life with Nat and Steve. No need to complain about that now.

Five minutes later Steve appeared at the door again, not smiling this time. His body was humming with nervous energy; his fingers were twitching at his sides, probably longing to hold a pen or a brush and paint his feelings rather than having to say them out loud. Bucky could already tell they weren’t going dancing tonight.

“I’m not feeling so good. I think I’d rather stay home.” He couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes and Bucky didn’t want to see the expression in them anyway. “Buck, I’m-“

“It’s okay, doll. You keep Nat company and we’ll go out some other time, okay?”

“Okay. Just-“ Steve fidgeted with his hands again, unable to keep still, it seemed. “You could come round for dinner tomorrow. If you want.”

Steve had never invited him over for dinner before. He’d made it quite clear that Bucky wasn’t supposed to be in his space. It was all rather confusing and Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he wasn’t about to turn down a chance of being with Steve, even if it was just for one evening.

“I’ll be there. At eight?”

Steve nodded and closed the door without another word. One step forward, two steps back. That was the dance they had somehow fallen into. Bucky preferred the Charleston himself, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore.

He walked towards Kreuzer’s without Steve at his side, feeling the spring in his step giving way to a trot.

-

Kreuzer’s hadn’t started out as a queer joint, but its owner had shown remarkable understanding for the queer population’s need for privacy. And his bands were usually the best. That was why Bucky actually had to fight his way into the night club, pushing back pretty queenies and their more macho boyfriends. When he spotted Kreuzer’s wild copper hair, he waved until the man caught sight of him and came over to let him in.

“James! Good to see you, pal. It’s been awfully boring here without you around. How’s Steve?”

Because of course everyone but Steve knew about what he’d done for Steve and what he still felt for Steve. It might have been funny if it wasn’t so goddamn sad. Kreuzer led him into the club, spirited him away to a corner booth and put a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Judging from the look on your face Steve is still as stubborn and immune to your charms as he’s always been. Not to worry. Nothing a good night out on the town can’t set straight. I could introduce you to a couple of choice fellas if you like.”

Holding his breath to avoid the taste, Bucky knocked back the whiskey. Shuddering, he put the empty glass on the table in front of him. The band hadn’t even started yet so there was no music to lose himself in. Might as well take Kreuzer up on his offer.

“Yeah, sure. Give me your worst.”

“I’m gonna give you my _best_. See that one in the corner?” Kreuzer pointed at a petite blond standing at the corner of the bar. The kid was wearing his old Sunday best; his pants didn’t quite reach his ankles and his shirt cuffs didn’t cover his delicate wrist bones. Bucky immediately knew this wasn’t going to work out, but he made his way over there anyway because he really had no other choice and no one else to spend his money on.

Steve didn’t want him anymore and that was something he was just gonna have to deal with. Flirting with blushing virgins was better than spending another miserable night all alone.

He gave the kid his best dazzling smile, showing off his teeth and a happiness he didn’t feel. The band finally took their place on the stage and a moment later Bucky didn’t have to speak anymore at all. The blond was pressing against him, fumbling to lead him in the dance even though Bucky shied away again and again, drawing it out, making them both wait for the inevitable.

Later he closed his eyes and pretended that the skinny blond was another blond he’d used to hold like this. It probably wasn’t fair to the kid to pretend he was someone else, but nothing was fair in the world these days, was it? Better to share this night under false pretenses than to go back home and sleep alone, cold and with no one to hold onto.

The jazz seeped into his bones, filling him with something other than the need for Steve, and for a while at least it worked. For a while he could pretend that this was twelve months ago and nothing had gone wrong in the meantime.

That Steve was still his.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve had always been better at cooking than Bucky was, mostly because he had more time to devote to it than him. Bucky was always either out working his day job or moonlighting as a… well, Steve didn’t want to examine that thought too closely. He didn’t want to think about what Bucky was doing when he wasn’t around to pester Steve.

His fingers were trembling around the steak knife he’d been using to chop up the tomatoes Mrs Irving had given him for helping her daughter with her school work. He couldn’t think about what had happened a year ago or he wouldn’t be able to go through with this and have dinner with Bucky. Willing his fingers to stop shaking, Steve went back to attacking the tomatoes, feeling them come apart under the knife. They were small and watery and his knife was too blunt so he was just mashing them up really, but they were meant to for a sauce anyway, so it didn’t matter how they looked.

It mattered to him anyway. This was supposed to be a nice evening – a shared meal, shared memories and maybe-

“Nat, you gotta be our chaperone tonight,” Steve said to the cat. “I can’t do anything I’d regret. And I would. We both know that I would. It’s pathetic, but you gotta look out for me, okay? You’re my best girl, aren’t you?”

Blinking her large green eyes at him, the cat sneezed delicately. Nat wasn’t interested in helping him out, mostly because she seemed to think that Bucky had hung the moon. Which, in a way, he had. Bucky had found Nat as a kitten, half-starved and full of worms and other vermin. He’d nursed her back to health, spending half a pay check on the vet bill. Everyone had told her to give up on her and just have her delivered from her misery as gently as possible, but Bucky had stubbornly fought for her life, had carried her cradled against his chest, his undershirt and jacket warming her, until she had hopped out one day and groomed herself for the first time. No one had believed in her, but she had survived, had grown into a large, strong cat with powerful legs and an attitude that made most toms shy away from her.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Steve asked and her powerful legs crumpled under her as she gave a mournful meow. Maybe she was just hungry, but for a second Steve was sure the cat had understood him perfectly and tried guilt-tripping him into taking Bucky back. “It’s not so easy,” he told her, dumping the mutilated tomatoes into an old copper pot of his mother’s. “There are some things you just can’t come back from, you see? I don’t like being lied to. You know that, Nat.”

Talking to the cat should probably have made him feel a lot more pathetic than it did. The cat wasn’t exactly a very interactive part to their conversation, but at least she didn’t disagree with him. Her eyes weren’t judging him, not like Mrs Stutebaker’s. His neighbour seemed to be saying all thethings Steve felt himself with her narrowed eyes: _You’re lucky he’s put up with you at all. You should’ve just sucked it up and forgiven him. You ain’t gonna find another man to take care of you like he did._

Sighing, Steve flopped onto the rickety kitchen chair Bucky had been meaning to repair. He was tired down to his bones, his eyelids heavy and threatening to fall shut any second now. Thank God Mrs Udine had given him a handful of her home-made spaghetti in exchange for painting her front door. He absolutely didn’t have the strength to make anything more sophisticated than a sauce right now. Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t stay long. But he might and he might pull Steve to sit in his lap, might stroke the weariness out of the nape of his neck and give him a kiss before lowering him onto their old, creaky bed. They’d make it bounce, giggling like children, and Bucky would cup Steve’s face in his hands before kissing him senseless.

Steve was sure he could have gone right to sleep after that, but he wouldn’t allow it. He’d spend half the night awake again, going through every single gesture Bucky had made during dinner, savouring them in a way he wasn’t supposed to anymore. The alarm clock would ring too early and Steve would wake to another lonely morning without Bucky in his bed to warm him, to make him feel loved.

“Nat, you’re not helping,” he said as he pulled himself up to put the noodles in the bubbling pot of water he’d prepared. “Seriously, you’re supposed to stop me from having such thoughts and you’re doing nothing. You’re a bad chaperone.”

Nat hopped onto the kitchen counter and pawed the spoon in the tomato sauce. No, there was no help forthcoming from this front. Steve kept playing around with the food although there wasn’t really much to do. Mrs Udine had taught him well, had taught him all the efficiency of an Italian housewife cooking for eight children and he was only feeding two. Still, it was better than waiting for the knock on the front door to come. It might not come at all. Maybe Bucky wasn’t coming. Steve wouldn’t be surprised after last night. He’d meant to come along to Kreuzer’s, but at the last moment his courage had deserted him, vanishing in the night like a renegade leaving the sinking ship. Going out with Bucky would have stirred up memories of better nights and better times, back when they’d believed they had forever.

The knock came before he could really vanish down memory lane and Steve took a deep, steadying breath before he went to answer it.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky looked like he hadn’t slept last night, but Steve knew better than to ask him about that, knew better than to dig around in wounds that weren’t his to treat. He was dressed in his best suit, though, had obviously tried to make himself presentable for the occasion. In his hand he held a bouquet of dried flowers. “I got you these. Or, well, I made them. I thought if you could dry leaves, you could probably dry flowers.”

“Good evening,” Steve said, wincing at his own stiffness. He looked down at the flowers and his hand was shaking a little when he accepted them, careful not to brush his fingers against Bucky’s. “Where did you even find these? Do I want to know?”

He put them on the coffee table, unable to deal with either the flowers or the kicked puppy expression Bucky was most likely going to wear. “Go on into the kitchen. I’ll be there in a second.” After he’d composed himself and rearranged his features into careful indifference.

Bucky still fit into the apartment, Steve thought, watching him as he walked on into the kitchen. He still moved like he knew every nook and cranny (which he did, of course) and there wasn’t anything Steve had to explain or move aside. Bucky just got it. His throat ached a little at that and he bent over the flowers to hide the emotion. Roses, cream and red and pink. Of course Bucky would get him roses. Pressing his nose against the flowers, he inhaled their faint scent, almost gone. Shaking his head, he set the flowers back down and followed Bucky to finish up dinner.

When Steve put a plate of spaghetti in front of Bucky, Nat had already curled up on his lap, purring contentedly. Like she had been planning for exactly this outcome all along.

“You look tired, Stevie.”

Steve winced at the nickname, still used to hearing it in a different context. He wished Bucky would stop using it while he also secretly hoped he never would. It was theirs, this word, like this apartment, like Nat. He pushed his noodles around with the crooked fork Bucky had always been planning to beat into a more fork-like shape. He’d never gotten around to that either. They’d never gotten around to so many things and now they never would. It was enough to spoil what little appetite Steve had had for the watery tomato sauce, little better than soup really.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t slept very well.” Which was an understatement. Steve couldn’t actually recall the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. Or maybe he could. It had been the night before Bucky had left. They’d stayed up too late, talking, kissing, stealing touches under their thin blankets and laughing at giving each other goosebumps with their icy fingers. Steve’s fall leaves had thrown shadows over them, washing their faces in gold and red.

“Have you been sick again?” Bucky asked, a deep V creasing the space between his eyebrows. “Do you need anything? I can run down to the pharmacy and-“

“I’m fine, Bucky. Really. Just having trouble with going to sleep, is all.” He really didn’t need Bucky to worry about him. He needed that about as much as he needed a third nipple in the middle of his forehead. His own filthy imagination made him blush a little. “I just need-“

 _You._ That was the elephant in the room that neither of them was ready to address. Steve had only ever needed Bucky, but Bucky had needed something more. Of course he did. He was young, beautiful and fun. It had been unrealistic to expect him to be content with sitting around at home with Steve for the rest of his life. Steve would have let him go if he’d asked, but he never had, had seemed like he was as happy with Steve as Steve was with him.

Suddenly he felt Bucky’s fingers brushing against his wrist bone, a gentle flicker of warmth. Steve looked up at him, eyes wide and more than a little desperate. He wanted this so much and he knew, just knew, that Bucky was going to give it to him if only he asked. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t ask for it only to be hurt all over again. He couldn’t pull back his hand either, though. That single point of contact was all he could feel. Breathing through his nose, he watched Bucky’s fingers rub soothing circles into the delicate flesh, over the vein shimmering green under his skin. So fragile, so easy to tear open. He let out a shuddering breath and turned his hand to give Bucky better access.

Bucky gently lifted Steve’s hand, shoved down the too-large cuff of his shirt, baring his forearm to him. The first kiss landed in the crook of Steve’s elbow and he couldn’t help the soft gasp escaping his lips. Bucky was warm and solid and real and he was here, doing this with Steve despite everything. His lips travelled down his arm, soothing, caressing, coaxing. Steve’s heart was fluttering in his chest like a small bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. He _wanted_. He wanted so much that he couldn’t even put a name to it, but he wanted. And Bucky gave, kept kissing his arm until he reached his palm and the kiss he pressed there was different, was _more_. It said that he wanted to come back, wanted to be with Steve and wanted to give him this and everything else.

Steve snatched his arm back. “You’d better leave. I’ll pack up the food for you.”

Bucky shook his head. “Stevie, please. _Please_.”

“I’m sorry, Buck. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have-“

Grabbing him by the back of the neck, Bucky pulled him down to sit in his lap like Steve had always liked doing. He just held him, but his eyes were so desperate and his fingers against Steve’s hips burned holes through his clothes. “Stevie, no. It wasn’t a mistake. Please, doll. Just come back to me, come back to me.”

“You know I can’t do that. You have to stop asking because it won’t change how I feel and it won’t help how you feel. You’re only gonna hurt yourself and you’re gonna hurt me and it won’t change a damn thing!”

Bucky pulled back his hands like he’d burnt himself when he had been the one doing the burning, bruising, _hurting_. Steve shouldn’t have asked him to come for dinner, but everyone had moments of weakness and this had been his. He’d felt so bad for Bucky, for not coming along to Kreuzer’s when he’d said he would. Well, that had been a mistake as well. Bucky had probably been planning for something like this, another attempt at wooing Steve when what they both really needed was space.

“I need you to stay away from me. I need you to walk out that door and not come back. Seriously, I can’t do this, Bucky. I can’t.”

Something inside of Steve’s expression made Bucky look down at his feet. He nodded slowly like he was moving his head through molasses rather than air, and turned around without another word. He wasn’t going to take the spaghetti and Steve didn’t particularly wanted to pack them up at the moment. When the front door clicked shut, Steve slid down to the kitchen floor, wrapping his arms around his knees.

He’d done it. He’d finally made Bucky leave him alone, but he didn’t really feel any better for it.

 

-

 

Bucky cried out when he hit a pebble too hard and the pain shot through his thin shoes, all the way up his leg. “Jesus fucking Christ! C’mon!” he yelled at the heavens above him, only it was just the neon light of China Town. “I need a win,” he grumbled at no one in particular as he wound his way through the streets, hoping to lose himself somewhere in the throng of people.

A Chinese girl with soft finger-curls and a cherry-pink mouth walked up to him. Bucky wasn’t sure why he noticed her of all people in the crowd. She was pretty, yes, but not really his type. Everything about her screamed goody two shoes; her sensible grey skirt and the lumpy sweater she wore weren’t Bucky’s style. He hadn’t had a girl ever since he and Steve had finally gotten together, but before that he’d preferred his dames loose and a little crazy. Perhaps Bucky just liked taking care of his partners a little too much or maybe it was the constant danger he was after. Who knew? This girl was different. This girl knew what she wanted, this girl was perfectly happy with herself and she absolutely wasn’t Steve. Still, her softly swaying hips carried a promise of something sweeter than spending the night walking the streets and he suddenly wanted it, wanted to lose himself in her.

“You’re looking for something,” she said when she came to stop in front of him, her beautiful face lit to perfection by one of the lanterns strung along the eave of the house beside them. Twirling a curl around her finger, she gave him a _smile_. It wasn’t just any old smile, but something deeper and darker, something Bucky wanted to rip off her mouth and wear on his own.

“Aren’t we all?” he said, cringing at how breathless his voice sounded.

“You’re looking for money, some way to change your future. I can help.”

Bucky had heard all sorts of stories about China Town, about the opium and the whores and the ten thousand ways a man could lose both his fortune and his sanity there. He’d never believed that. He was starting to believe it now, but he didn’t care. Steve was lost to him anyway, so he might as well lose himself in some booze or drugs. He’d never tried drugs before, but if they could stop that awful swelling in his throat, that awful thorny knot that wouldn’t go away no matter how often he swallowed, well, then he’d be happy to try.

The girl led him into a back alley, her swaying hips stringing him along. This was probably the fastest way to get himself killed, but at this point Bucky really didn’t care anymore. If he had to, he could fight his way out of any mess. If not, well, then it hardly mattered, did it?

“What’s your name?” he asked the girl, wanting to know who he was losing his life for.

Turning, she extended her arms and laughed, the silver sounds rising to the dark night sky like birds in flight. “Aimeng – the sprout of love.”

Bucky snorted. “Eye-mong?” he tried, the foreign syllables tasting odd on his tongue, like trying a dish for the very first time.

“Close enough.” Aimeng laughed again. “You must think me crazy, Soldier, but I’m just so happy, you see? You don’t know it yet and even if you knew, you wouldn’t understand, but you’re about to become part of something bigger than you could ever have imagined. No more digging for scraps, no more loneliness, no more reaching for what you can never have.”

Twirling like a mad ballerina, she howled her joy at the night, her sensible skirt swinging around her in a dizzying circle. Bucky felt drunk although he hadn’t had a drop since the night before. He hadn’t even gotten around to asking Steve if he wanted a drop of the whiskey he kept in a flask at his hip. Steve. He really shouldn’t be here. He should go back, explain to Steve, explain why he had done the things he had done and hope that Steve wouldn’t hate him anymore.

But the Chinese girl seemed to be sensing it, seemed to know that he had resolved to leave. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek. He could already tell he was going to have her kiss imprinted on his cheek in cherry-pink.

She took a step back, laughing again. Following the pale column of her pale neck with his eyes, Bucky decided that explaining things to Steve could wait for a little while longer. He wanted to see how this would all play out, how she would try to woo him. Nevermind that she already had.

She came dancing back to his side, pushing her carefully lacquered fingernail into the middle of his chest, pushing him back against a wall. “You’re going to shape a new century, a better life for all of us.”

Her breath tasted of cinnamon and almonds, but her mouth was wine and tobacco. Winding his arms around her waist, Bucky pulled her closer. Something underneath the glamour and booze smelled of a doctor’s office. He’d taken Steve to too many doctors to not know. Stiffening in her arms, he tried to push her away, but it was too late. A prick against his neck and he was falling, falling, falling.

-

Bucky didn’t come back. Steve should have expected it after having pushed him away so harshly and thoroughly, but he was still disappointed. He spent most of his days working odd jobs when he wasn’t at the diner. He had to keep busy anyway because, inexplicably, the rent had been raised some time after Bucky’s disappearance and it was all he could do to pay for that and his and Nat’s food. The cat spent more and more time outdoors, trying to supplement Steve’s meagre offerings with mice and rats. Steve was busy, but a part of his mind was always occupied with keeping an eye out for Bucky. They lived only three streets apart, so he should have been seeing him. He’d seen him all the time when he hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, breaking his heart on Bucky’s smile again and again and again until he’d learned to not look at him so closely anymore.

There came a point where he just couldn’t take it anymore. Bucky’s absence was making him restless, made it impossible for him to put his pen to paper and draw anymore. There were ants in his socks and butterflies in his head, batting their wings at him until he couldn’t see straight anymore.

It was time to visit Kreuzer’s. Bucky would most likely be there or Kreuzer would at least know which crappy joint Bucky was working for on that particular night. Armed with his best suit and a smile that he thought was charming, he made his way past the bouncer and into the seedy hole in a wall of a night club. Kreuzer was in his element, gliding through the throngs of people like a shark. He smiled at Steve and gave him an exaggerated bow that made his ridiculous top hat slide from his head.

“My prince, it has been too long. How’re you holding up? Did you need a break from sweet matrimony or perhaps a little giggle juice to mix things up?” He lewdly raised his eyebrows.

“I was looking for Bucky actually. If that is what you meant by ‘sweet matrimony’. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Kreuzer’s eyes widened. “I was sure you two were shacking up and making sweet love all day. After your bank had been closed for so long, I would’ve thought you were gonna be at it like bunnies. He was so sure that you cooking for him would change things and you two could, you know, be together again.”

“But… that was three months ago!” Steve had to force himself not to leap forward and punch Kreuzer in the face. Why hadn’t he _said_ anything? If any mutual acquaintance of theirs had vanished, he would have told Kreuzer. And this wasn’t just about an acquaintance, it was about the love of Steve’s life, which they were both perfectly aware of. Kreuzer had better have a really good explanation for this or Steve would maybe punch him, after all, potentially broken knuckles be damned.

“Look, bunny, it’s not that I don’t understand your concern, but what did you want me to do about it? I thought you had kissed and made up and-“ Kreuzer pulled Steve through a small door into what was probably meant to be his office. Or a storage room. Or a combination of both. The cigar smell and mould almost made Steve gag and he had to steady himself with one hand against the door frame.

“Look, all I know is that he was here three months ago and I haven’t seen him since,” Kreuzer said. “I didn’t know I was supposed to look for him or I would have. I don’t like seeing my friends vanish. I just thought-“

“You thought I had made up with him. Why would you even think that?”

Something dark and awful curdled in Steve’s stomach. He had told Bucky to go. Perhaps he’d taken that a lot more literally than Steve had meant for it to be. What if he’d left the city? What if he’d gone somewhere far away where Steve would never find him again? Yes, he’d told him to leave, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always planned on learning how to forgive Bucky one day. Now he might never have a chance to do that.

“I thought you two were forever,” Kreuzer said, lighting another of his disgusting cigars and scratching the back of his head. “Some couples walk into your bar and you look at them and just… know.”

“He should’ve thought of that before cheating on me,” Steve murmured, his eyes watering from the smoke.

The cigar dropped from Kreuzer’s lips and he scrambled to retrieve it before resurfacing with a huff. His top hat hung askew and patches of unruly copper hair became visible. “You thought he was _cheating_ on you? James Buchanan Barnes cheating on _you_? Bunny, you’re dumber than a gaggle of flappers and those were the dumbest girls in town. Thank God that particular fashion has gone out of style. Chrissake, man. He did not cheat on you.”

Steve didn’t want to listen to Kreuzer finish his diatribe, didn’t even want to be having this conversation in the first place. “What else would you call it then? I caught him with his pants around his ankles, so to speak.”

Pushing down the resurfacing images from his memory, Steve willed himself to be quiet from now on. Kreuzer was trying, but he was also a horrible gossip and he wouldn’t be able to help Steve anyway. If Bucky had left, then that was that. At least now he had a chance of figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. Maybe it was good that things had gone down the way they had or he would have spent the rest of his life wondering what might have been if Bucky had been able to keep his dick in his pants.

“Now you listen to me,” Kreuzer said, suddenly serious. “You were sick a year ago, remember? Everyone thought it was gonna be for the last time. We thought you were gonna die. We all chipped in, you see, but it wasn’t enough. You needed medicine and food and Bucky had to move you to that place where you’re now. So he did what he had to do and he did it for you.”

Steve shook his head again and again and again. His whole body was thrumming with nervous energy, a tingling and shaking he couldn’t get under control no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bucky hadn’t done this for him without ever telling him the truth. He had not.

Kreuzer reached out, gently brushing his hand against Steve’s shoulder. “He did it for you. He didn’t want you to feel guilty, that’s why he never told you the truth. Thought it’d be easier if he just asked for forgiveness later. He just didn’t think you wouldn’t give it.”

“You should have told me.” Steve’s voice was hoarse, small and used-up. “He’s gone, Kreuzer, and I didn’t even get to say I’m sorry.”

“We never do, do we?” Kreuzer sighed. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to be found. But I’ll see what I can do. It’s just that it was three months ago, Steve. I might not be able to find him.”

Steve nodded, hardly able to hear Kreuzer over the buzzing in his ears. Bucky had tried to protect him, tried to feed him and give him the medicine he needed. And that’s how he’d paid him back. He was going to find Bucky, he was going to apologise and then he’d never let go of him ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling with some aspects of this story, such as the period-typical homophobia. And then I just said 'fuck this', there won't be any. There won't be any racism either, at least not as much as there should be. Also, I'm sorry it's taking me so long to set everything up. Y'all have been very patient. <3

It was March by the time Steve admitted to himself that he was angry at Bucky. Before that, he’d been too busy running all over New York and waving his self-drawn pictures of Bucky at everyone who would see them – and a lot of people who thought he was a grifter intent on getting his paws on their hard-earned cash. Sometimes he was threatened with violence, sometimes he actually saw it. The streets of New York had seen so much of his blood already, a little more hardly mattered.

Bucky was gone, vanished like he had never existed at all, and it was all because he had tried to be noble. Steve had never asked for him to be noble or to take care of him. The thought weighed him down even harder than his book bag, which he lugged all over Brooklyn to tutor kids who were supposed to have a better future than their parents. The thought kept him up at night when even Nat had stopped purring and there was just the darkness and the too-large bed and the faint smell of dried roses creeping into his nostrils.

He was angry at Bucky, but he kept going because there was nothing else he could do. Even if Bucky didn’t want to be found, he would. Even if Bucky wanted nothing more to do with him, there was still a kiss and a punch waiting for him. Steve wasn’t sure in which order he was going to deliver his gifts, but if Bucky thought Steve was going to go easy on him, he was wrong.

If he thought Steve was going to give up on him now, well, then he clearly didn’t know Steve as well as he thought. But it was getting harder and harder to keep his hope up when every road he took ended up in inevitable disappointment.

The factory was the first place Steve went to look. He even brought along some sandwiches to distribute among the man, hoping that might trigger their memories.

The foreman, a fella named Samuel Wilson, refused to take a sandwich from another struggling New Yorker, but gave his opinion freely enough. His voice and eyes were as warm as the hand resting on Steve’s forearm. “Look, kid, I know this probably sounds weird, but-“ Samual scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “When I met my wife, everyone told me she wasn’t right for me ‘cause she’s from Alabama. Said she probably wasn’t even untouched, what with how they still treat some folks down there. ‘S not so much better here, I said. I love that woman, I said. Well, they were right. But that’s never stopped me from loving her.”

Steve could hardly breathe with the sudden terrible weight on his chest. Had Bucky told Wilson everything? Had everyone _but_ him know about Bucky’s sacrifice and the way he’d been treating him ever since?

“I wasn’t aware of what he was doing. I thought he was… going astray.”

There were certain things you couldn’t talk about, even with the most understanding of people. Some things could cause more trouble than they were worth.

“He wouldn’t have left you voluntarily, is what I’m trying to say, I guess.” Samuel awkwardly patted Steve’s arm. “And he wouldn’t have just abandoned us here. Teaching new people how to do this crappy job takes longer than one might think and we had a huge order to finish when he vanished.”

There it was again, that spark of hope that wouldn’t be denied, no matter how bad things got. “So you think he didn’t leave because of me?”

“Never.”

Steve talked to more men, but none of them had anything quite as revelatory to say as Samuel. Some of them told him they’d seen Bucky or someone who looked _just_ like him. He secretly thought they were only telling him this to make themselves feel better about taking his sandwiches, but he soaked it all up like a greedy sponge. He was going to follow every lead, even if Bucky might not have left voluntarily. He was going to get to the bottom of this affair and maybe he’d be able to breathe more freely again once he had.

But as soon as he’d handed out the last sandwich the doubts and fear were starting to creep in again. If Bucky hadn’t left of his own volition, then where was he?

He felt defeated when he came to Kreuzer’s with no news again. He’d heard from one of Bucky’s ex-colleagues at the factory that a young man who looked just like Bucky had been seen on Coney Island, juggling pink balls. Steve wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a euphemism for something else, but he’d gone to Coney Island anyway, spending too much money to get there. Bucky hadn’t been there, of course, neither juggling balls nor doing anything else. There hadn’t been even very many people, which wasn’t unusual for a Monday morning in March, but Steve had still felt too lonely to stay longer than absolutely necessary. In the warmth and din of Kreuzer’s joint things didn’t seem quite so eerie as under the pale Coney Island skies, but Steve was just as lonely as before. Pushing his way through a thong of ladies with long cigarette holder, he made his way to Kreuzer’s office. No one tried to hold him back; at this point everyone knew who he was and whom he was looking for.

Kreuzer had abandoned his top hat after Bucky’s disappearance, but tonight it was back, dangling precariously on Kreuzer’s head. A gleeful smile split the man’s lips and Steve couldn’t help but return it with at least a shadow of his own.

“Mitt me, kid. I got excellent news.” Kreuzer thrust a glass of brown plaid at him. “So, you remember my friend Carl, the meat wagon driver?”

If Carl was anything like Kreuzer, Steve wasn’t sure he wanted the man to be in charge of an ambulance, but he didn’t say that. Kreuzer had had many false alarms over the past couple of months; none of the men he’d dragged out of the gutters by their scruffs had even remotely resembled Bucky and Steve was starting to think that Kreuzer wasn’t even trying. Still, the hope of finding him kept Steve going and he didn’t want that taken away from him, however feeble it was.

“And what did Carl say?” Steve tried keeping the hope at bay, didn’t want it to spill over when he was most likely going to be disappointed anyway.

“He picked up a guy in China Town. The description’s pretty damn accurate, but kitten-“ Kreuzer checked that the door to his office was really and truly shut before turning around to face Steve again. “There’s something fishy going on in China Town. People have been vanishing. People have turned up dead. Not the kind of people you’d think would vanish either. Rich people, too.”

Steve’s head was spinning. He couldn’t focus on Kreuzer’s words when all he wanted to know was where this new potential hope of his might be lying right now.

“What’s that mean to us?” he forced out at last, hoping that Kreuzer would tell him what he wanted to know then.

“It means that something’s going on. They’re whispering about it. Even the higher-ups. No one wants to talk about what they know, except for Carl, but that’s because he’s a talkative drunk and not too fond of his own life, which is a shame because he has nine kids and seven wives, but I digress. The thing is, if this is Bucky, then something has happened to him and someone has done that thing _to_ him. And I think I know who we might be dealing with.”

Kreuzer had his back against the door now, like he was the last line of defense against an enemy onslaught. Steve noticed the fine beads of sweat springing up all over Kreuzer’s face for the first time and something in his stomach gave. A dark, awful sensation swooshed into him, something he’d only ever felt once before. On that horrible day he no longer wanted to remember.

“Kreuzer, what’s going on?” he whispered, suddenly afraid to raise his voice despite the usual din outside.

“Someone’s been collecting… people. Not just adults. They’ve also been taking kids. And these kids are never seen again, not alive anyway. And when they do turn back up, their parents don’t even have enough to justify a costly funeral. You see what I mean? These aren’t gangsters. Gangsters I could deal with. Gangsters would be _swell_ because half of them like me and the other half wants to get into my pants because they’re deluded enough to think that if they keep nagging, I’ll eventually say yes and fuck one of them. Which isn’t going to happen. Ever. But as I was saying, kid, someone is killing people in China Town and someone has seen Bucky in China Town on the night he vanished.”

There was no more ground underneath Steve’s feet, no more world to hold him upright. He was falling and there was no one there to hold him upright. For a moment his vision went blurry and his knees must have buckled for real, like he was some fragile dame in a talkie, swooning at the loss of her one true love. Kreuzer firmly shoved him into his office chair.

“Steve, I’ve- I’ve been aware of this for a while now. I’m sorry I never told you.”

“Bucky isn’t dead,” Steve whispered, knowing what Kreuzer was trying to tell him in his roundabout way. “I’m not gonna look at whatever corpse Carl has fished out of the gutter. Because it’s not him. I’d know if he was dead. He’s not.”

Kreuzer held up his hands in surrender. “I can’t argue with that logic. But would you at least have a look at the guy? Just to be perfectly sure it’s not Bucky?”

“You go. I already know it’s not him and I’m not going to waste any more time. I’m going to China Town.”

“You can’t go there. What if the same people who kidnap all those kids get to you? If you’re right and Bucky’s still out there somewhere, he’s gonna kill me if I let anything happen to me. Not on my watch, you won’t.”

“The hell I can’t! I put him there and I’m going to find him and you won’t stop me! You can come with me, but you’re not gonna stop me.”

Kreuzer massaged the bridge of his nose, clearly defeated. The savage joy Steve felt at seeing the man so desperate was probably uncharitable, but Kreuzer had kept something from him, had pretended that there was no hope when Bucky might have been a prisoner in some opium den all along. A voice deep within his mind whispered at him that the solution probably wasn’t so easy, that he wasn’t going to set things right just because he wanted to. But Steve didn’t care. He had to find Bucky and tell him all the things he’d been feeling over the last five months or they’d balloon inside of him, growing larger and larger until he burst under their weight.

“At least let me get some men together to come with us, just in case things go wrong. And they _will_ go wrong if you don’t stop acting like this, Steve. You can’t expect to just barge in there and free the princess from the dragon. That’s not how things work in my world. This is my turf, so you’d better let me decide how we go about this.” Kreuzer was strangely serious, his wide brown eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits and his hands kept picking at invisible threads on his cuffs. “We’re gonna need back-up and we’re gonna need a plan.”

Steve’s body was humming with impatience, with the need to go forward and just figure out the rest when he got there, but he knew Kreuzer was right. There was no point in getting caught or killed himself. He looked up at the German again, sighing. “I think the best would be to send some men ahead, right? To scout the area and make sure we find some place we can easily defend if we have to.”

Kreuzer nodded his approval and tipped his head at Steve. “Sounds like a solid plan if we wanna hit all sixes. Let me do my thing. You wait here until I’ve gathered my troops.”

Kreuzer gave him a lewd wink and vanished through the door, leaving Steve alone with his galloping heart.

-

Lil’ Joe didn’t like working for Kreuzer normally, but he didn’t mind so much now that he was in China Town with a pretty dame on his arm and a cup of mulled wine in his hand. It was still getting awfully cold at night and Lil’ Joe just wanted to be inside. Maybe even inside that woman. He grinned at his own joke before turning to laugh at something the girl had said to him. Now, she was the kind of dame you could take home to meet your mother; sensibly dressed and cute, probably just as good in the kitchen as she was in the sack. Too bad she wasn’t Italian and he could never take her home to meet his mamma.

“So what are you doing here tonight?” the girl asked, twirling one of her water waves around her finger. “Are you here for pleasure or business?”

“Both,” Joe replied with a grin, his hand wandering a little further down the girl’s waist than was strictly necessary or appropriate. “I’m looking for a fella for my boss.”

“Does he owe your boss cash or something?” The girl laughed, showing her rows and rows of pearl-white teeth and Joe laughed with her although there hadn’t been anything funny about what she’d asked.

He wasn’t supposed to be talking about this; Kreuzer had been very clear on that. Nothing about tonight’s mission was to go any further than the inner circle on whose fringes Joe had been languishing for the past four years. It probably wouldn’t hurt to tell a little lady like this one what they were gonna do, she might even have some information for him.

“This fella, Bucky Barnes is his named, vanished here a few months ago. He’s kind of the boss’ favourite and he wants to find him. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

The girl’s eyes widened in recognition when he said Barnes’ names and she hurried to nod. “But of course. He’s been hiding here all along. He didn’t want his lover to find him because he hurt him horribly. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? I can show you where he is.”

And there it was, Joe’s ticket to the inner circle, golden and perfect like some trinket from a cornflakes box from ten years ago. Grinning, he pulled the girl in for a kiss, pressing his lips against her cherry-pink lipstick. “Doll, you’ve made my night. We should go out and celebrate, but first you gotta show me where Barnes is so I can deliver him to my boss with a bow round his head.”

The girl let go of him then and danced ahead, dancing and spinning and twirling until she had led him all the way to a dark alley. “I’m not going in there, doll. C’mon, no one would fall for that.”

“Oh, but you already have,” the girl said and pulled something from under her sensible skirt.

Lil’ Joe never even had the time to scream as he became smaller still.


	4. Chapter 4

“All right, kochanie, you stay close to me and don’t do anything stupid.” Winnie turned his cap around so that the visor was facing backwards, and gave Steve a winning grin. His accent was thick enough to cut through with a knife, but Steve was used to dealing with Italian ladies who hardly spoke a word of English.

Winnie was his ‘buddy’ for the night. Like kindergarteners, each gangster had been assigned a buddy to spend the night with in order to make sure they actually came back, unlike Lil’ Joe who had probably stuck his head too deep into a lady’s cleavage to ever find his way out again.

“Shouldn’t have sent him as the vanguard,” Kreuzer had said with a sigh. “Should’ve known he was never gonna live up to that kind of responsibility.”

Kreuzer had declined to accept Steve as his buddy because they were both ‘skinny and pretty’. That’s how Steve had ended up with Winnie who was built like one of the gorillas Steve had seen in the zoo once. His eyes were kind, though, and Steve was sure the man would only unleash his strength if it was absolutely necessary. They had reached the outskirts of China Town, Chinese characters glimmering ahead of them in the dark, promising glamour and a sense of the forbidden. Steve was pretty sure that most of them were just the names of drugstores and drycleaners, but he couldn’t help the prickling at the back of his neck. Bucky was somewhere in this warren of streets, waiting for him, if Kreuzer and Samuel Wilson were right. He still loved Steve and they could be together again.

At last he dragged his attention back to Winnie. He’d have to find Bucky before they could kiss and make up. “I never do anything stupid. That’s a wicked lie Kreuzer’s been telling ya.”

“One look at you’s told me you’re trouble,” Winnie replied with a lewd grin. “You’re pretty enough to pass as a girl. Wars have been started for less in this shit town, you see?”

Steve shuddered at the thought of a bunch of gangsters starting a war over him of all people. He just wanted to have Bucky back and go home to his cat and his boring, normal life. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but at least it had been theirs.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Winnie nodded and they walked forward, keeping their eyes wide open. It was a slow night, for China Town. There weren’t very many people there and those who were didn’t seem very interested in answering the questions of a Polish giant and an all-American prettyboy. Winnie sighed in frustration and threw up his hands in defeat after the last Chinese granny had scurried past him like a scared mouse.

“This isn’t getting us anyplace,” he said. “We need to look in smaller streets now. What do you call them? Alleys. We go and look there.”

Later, when Steve had more time to devote to thinking about these things, he would always wonder what would have happened if it wasn’t for that granny and her rejection of Winnie. Would they have ever found Lil’ Joe and would any of the other events have unfolded? He could never be sure. He only remembered wrapping his arms around himself against the cold as he followed Winnie into one of the back alleys, remembered the stench in his nostrils. It was faint at first, hardly more than the memory of a smell, then his foot bumped against something in the darkness, something soft and too warm to be garbage.

His screamed died on his tongue before it could ever find its way out into the open. It clung to the back of his throat, though, ready to come out whenever his mind was done processing the monstrosity at his feet. Lil’ Joe. Or something that had once had that name.

He didn’t want to see more, didn’t want to know more, didn’t want any of this, but his eyes kept roaming. Needed to be sure that it was Lil’ Joe and not Bucky, and in that moment Steve tasted self-hatred for the first time because it shouldn’t have mattered who was lying butchered at his feet, but it did. Something glimmered in the faint light from a window, something metallic. His eyes travelled further up. Stringy hair, a sensual mouth, dead eyes.

Bile burned up its way to Steve’s mouth, savaging his body like acid, and he heard Winnie in the distance, but it wasn’t Winnie’s arms around him, not Winnie’s hand pushing back his hair. It was him, that creature he had seen crouching over Winnie’s head. It was Bucky.

-

Bucky Barnes had lain dormant for a while now. He knew who he was although he spent most of his days pretending he was someone else. _The Winter Soldier_. They had called him that for a reason he didn’t recall and wasn’t interested in recalling. For him it would always be because they had made him during the winter, when it was too cold to ignore their orders, too cold to not renounce his family and everyone he had ever known. He wasn’t sure if they had chosen the season on purpose or if he had merely come across them at a convenient time, but they made ample use of their advantage.

Until tonight.

He’d heard of Aimeng dealing with someone who had been looking for him. He’d had to come out to see for himself. Maybe it was Steve. If it was Steve, he was gonna have to murder her because he knew there wouldn’t be a whole lot left of whoever had caught her interest. Steve was still worth protecting, even if nothing else in this godforsaken place was. He’d tried. He’d tried ripping the children from their arms, to throw them out of the windows, because that would have still been kinder than what they meant to do to them.

It hadn’t worked. He’d only just gotten out of confinement and he probably shouldn’t risk being caught sneaking out of the building, but he had to. Had to know if it was Steve. It was real easy, too. The serum they’d given him, again and again and again, had not only made him stronger. It had changed something in the way he moved. He could become a shadow if he wanted to. He did now. He had to be in order to protect what had been keeping him alive through everything. That’s what they didn’t understand. They’d called him special for not breaking when the solution had been so easy all along; unlike the downtrodden people they had caught, unlike the rich boys with too much money and too little purpose, he had something worth protecting. If it now lay dead in an alley, he’d break all right. He’d never survive another dosage.

Bucky followed the subtle traces Aimeng had left, whether intentional or not, followed them back to the alley. The man had been dark-haired, burly. Not Steve. But it was someone Bucky had known a millennium (or a few months ago). He’d never particularly liked Lil’ Joe, but the man hadn’t deserved to die in this place. Perhaps he could scrape together what was left of him and bring it to Kreuzer’s. Joe’s poor old mamma didn’t deserve to have a bag of bloody bones delivered to her doorstep either. Kreuzer would know what to do. And suddenly he remembered who Joe was working for. Kreuzer must have been out here looking for him, which meant that more of Kreuzer’s men were in the vicinity. If he could reach them, maybe they could take him away before Aimeng or anyone else was sent out to retrieve him.

But then it was too late.

He felt the blond more than he saw it, but when it caught in the faint light from a window somewhere up high, Bucky was sure. Steve had stumbled into the lion’s den, unprepared and unprotected. Bucky wanted to yell at him to get out of there. He’d spent the better part of his life protecting Steve from just such a sight. The streets of New York were no place for Steve really. They were often awash in blood although it was never quite as bad as this. Bucky had kept it from their door step for as long as he could, but now trouble had found Steve and there was no more cozy apartment to lock themselves in. Steve’s shoe bumped against Joe’s head before Bucky could stop him and then Bucky couldn’t stop himself; he was at Steve’s side in a breath, holding back his hair (so much longer than he remembered; had Steve stopped taking care of himself in Bucky’s absence?) and holding his shaking body until he had calmed down enough to look at Bucky.

His hands were on Bucky’s cheeks, cold and small, but _there_.

“Where have you been, jerk? What the hell has happened to you?” he managed to choke out between sobs. “And what’s happened here? Have you-“

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head at the mere thought. “I’d never do that. You know me, Steve. I-I…” He trailed off, unsure what he’d been meaning to say.

Steve pressed his cheek against Bucky’s, his soft skin scraping against Bucky’s stubble, and nodded. “All right, babe. It was stupid of me to ask. It’ll be all right.”

Bucky’s arms tightened across Steve’s back and he could have happily spent the rest of his life, however short it might be, in Steve’s arms, just like this. It was the first soft touch he’d known since the night that had changed everything, the night he’d had spaghetti at Steve’s place. It seemed like he was forgiven for his past transgressions and he probably should have felt a lot happier about it than he did at the moment. Maybe he would feel happiness again, one day, but right now it didn’t seem too damn likely. Staying afloat, not breaking down were the two things he was focused on now and he couldn’t risk breaking his concentration to spare a thought for a better future. Maybe he could focus on the present, but he certainly wouldn’t be able to do much more. He couldn’t allow himself to feel too much of anything because then other things would creep in, too. Things that had nothing to do with happiness, and once he allowed them to take root in his brain, they’d destroy him.

That was part of his secret, too. He was very good at pushing away things he didn’t want to feel.

For now he just wanted to focus on Steve’s hair, how soft it was and how good it smelled. He could do that much. But then someone cleared their throat behind them and they looked up as if they were one mind in two bodies. Kreuzer and his buddy as well as a couple of other men were standing behind them now, probably flagged down by Winnie.

“We gotta get out of here,” Kreuzer said, pressing a handkerchief against his mouth. “Move it.”

-

“Would you stop your pacing, Winnie? It’s driving me nuts,” Kreuzer grumbled, refilling his brown plaid for the fourth time since they had come back to his office. The official office was slightly more glamorous than the one Steve had been visiting for the past few months. There was even a chandelier dangling from the ceiling, but Steve didn’t want to look at it because the glittering and the gentle swaying were making him nauseous. He could already taste more bile through the minty toothpaste he’d brushed his teeth with. Bucky’s arm, the good one, was wrapped around him, Steve’s neck pressed against his shoulder, and for now at least that seemed like the perfect place for him to spend the rest of the night. If only Kreuzer would shut the fuck up.

“You can’t stay here.” Kreuzer, cruelly cutting into Steve’s moment of peace and quiet. “Whoever did this to Joe ain’t gonna stop now.” He waved at the metallic hand Bucky had been given, the new limb Steve hadn’t looked at too closely yet. “You’re gonna have to leave town. And you’re not gonna do it as Bucky and Steve. That’d be just stupid. Whoever did this…”

“They’re gonna find us,” Bucky said and Steve almost flinched at the way Bucky’s voice had changed. It was something you could only know if you’d heard his voice in every thinkable and unthinkable situation. You could only know when you’d heard that voice crying, moaning in pleasure, laughing, flirting, seducing and grieving. He’d heard all of these and it was different now, close to becoming something else entirely.

“Then we just have to make sure they won’t.” Kreuzer waved his glass at them. “You ain’t gonna leave as Bucky and Steve. You’re gonna leave as James and Eve.”

 

Steve cursed the day he had set foot into Kreuzer’s for the very first time when Kreuzer’s wife started smearing the henna on his hair. Kreuzer had got it into his head that the people who had taken Bucky would fall for a stupid trick like this. They were looking for a man with a metal hand and a blond too skinny for his own good. They were not looking for a man in a fine suit with a pretty redhead on his arm. That’s what the henna and Michaela Kreuzer were here for. Secretly Steve thought it was just Kreuzer’s own vanity. If he could, he’d make everyone a redhead so he could say they all looked like him.

“Okay, this’ll have to stay in your hair for a bit. Let’s see about make-up now.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “I’m not wearing make-up.”

“Honey, you’re on the run from people who’re looking for someone like Bucky and you. If I don’t put make-up on you, everyone’ll see right away that you ain’t no keen dame. You don’t want them to find out what you really are.”

When she came at him with the kohl, Steve just closed his eyes and sent a silent curse up to the heavens. Perhaps Michaela was right and perhaps she wasn’t, but he sure as hell hoped that this was gonna work because it made him feel like a complete idiot.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about. You look…” Michaela trailed off and whistled instead, clearly taken by her own handiwork. She bustled into her bedroom, humming to herself as she dug around her wardrobe. Steve didn’t even want to know what fresh horrors she was going to rain down on him once her search was over.

The henna prickled a little against his scalp, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Maybe Steve would have even enjoyed the proceedings on an artistic level if he hadn’t had ants in his feet, telling him to just run and get the hell out of the city. He wanted to be close to Bucky again, wanted to know that he was still safe and not leaving again. He was downstairs, Steve tried to calm himself. He was downstairs and they were gonna leave together and be happy elsewhere. But it was hard to feel like anything was certain when you had to change your entire appearance just to escape. It was hard to feel safe when less than an hour ago you had been stepping onto a dead man’s face.

Shuddering, he wrapped the towel Michaela had draped over him around himself more tightly.

Suddenly he felt her kneeling by his side, her strong fingers finding his. “You know, when I first met Bucky and you, I thought you didn’t deserve him. You seemed like just another spoiled kitten to me, but you’re not. You’ve been so brave, Steve. You kept looking for him when anyone else would’ve given up. You even gave my husband hell and I like that in a person. Take this.”

She undid the clasp of her gold necklace and handed it to him. It felt heavy in his palm, too heavy to be a mere trinket. Michaela closed his fingers around it before he could give it back.

“Sell this if you need us to find this. Everyone in this game will know it’s mine. We made sure of that. Only use it if you have to. We’re powerful in this city, but we’re not half as powerful outside of it. Now come on. Let’s wash that henna out.”

Steve suddenly had to swallow down something hard and big in his throat.

 

Twenty minutes later, he descended the stairs on sensible heels that were still too high, the skirt of a purple dress playing around his calves. Michaela had styled his hair into a short bob and put mascara on him with strict instructions on how to refresh it. He’d never hated walking into a room as much as he did now, feeling the eyes of a group of men on him. Then he looked at Bucky. His eyes weren’t dead anymore, were alive with something Steve had been missing in them without even knowing.

_Hunger._

“You do clean up nice, Rogers.” Kreuzer whistled and took Steve’s hand to help him down the last couple of stairs. Twirling him around in a little dance move, he finally handed him off to Bucky.  
Bucky’s hands, one flesh and one metal, were resting on his waist possessively, and Steve could practically feel the tension in the room rising as the other men (with the notable exception of Winnie) kept staring at him. Steve was sure that most of it was just wonder at the power of make-up. Only some of them looked like they would’ve liked to feel him up and make sure that there really wasn’t a pair of breasts hiding underneath the neckline of his dress.

“All right then,” Kreuzer said. “It’s time to for you crazy kids to get the hell out of here. I suggest you make for Mexico. It’s warmer than Canada and there are fewer polar bears around. I’m not coming downstairs with you. Winnie’ll be singing you out. He can sing, you know? I’ll just-“

Kreuzer sniffled and hurried out of the room before Steve could say anything to him. Michaela just shrugged and pointed meaningfully at the purse she had given Steve to carry the necklace around in. There was also a change of clothes in there and enough money to purchase more dresses. Although he hoped he could leave those behind once they’d gotten out of the city.

When they walked outside, a sudden gust of window blew up Steve’s red bob, and goosebumps skittered down his spine. Wrapping an arm around him, Bucky pulled him close. “I’ll protect you, doll. I’ll make sure they won’t hurt you.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not scared now. I was scared when I thought you were lost to me, but now it’s all right. We’ll have to talk about things, though. A lot of things. Not just what happened to you, but about what you did. I never wanted you to become some noble martyr.”

“I never wanted you to become a girl, doll, but here we both are. But yeah, we’ll talk. Once we’re outta here.” For a moment Bucky sounded like he could be Steve’s Bucky again, the man he’d walked all over New York to find, the man he’d go to the end of the world to find.

 

At first they were driving aimlessly, just wanting to get out of the city and leaving its horrors far behind. Steve was driving because there was no way in hell he’d ever let Bucky drive a car again, not after their first time doing that together. The headlights were cutting slow circles into the darkness ahead and it was almost cozy. Almost.

“You drive like a grandma,” Bucky complained. “C’mon, no one’s on the road. You can go faster than that, Stevie.”

“Yes, I could do that,” Steve agreed. “I could also drive us into a brick wall and kill us.”

“That was one time and we’re both still alive. Stop flapping your gums.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Steve. Steve caught the glimmer of metal between the edge of Bucky’s glove and his suit cuff, and shuddered again. He hadn’t had time to process it yet, but Bucky’s body had been altered. It wasn’t just the metal arm; he looked well-fed now, almost buff. He’d lost the wiry, sinewy strength of before his kidnapping. He wondered if anything else about him had changed and if so, if there was a way of asking about it without sounding like a complete asshole. It shouldn’t even have mattered, but suddenly everything came crushing down on him, knocking the wind out of him.

Someone had kidnapped Bucky and had done something to him. Had _cut off his arm_ and replaced it with a new one, one that was hidden under a fine suit now, but was still there, taunting him, telling him that he should have gone looking for Bucky sooner. That he shouldn’t have accused Bucky of cheating on him. If he hadn’t been so goddamn petty, none of this would have ever happened because Bucky would have never gone to China Town in the first place.

“Doll, whatcha thinking about?” Bucky’s voice sounded warm and a moment later he felt his hand on his thigh, but it was the wrong hand and Steve flinched. Bucky quickly pulled his hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not you, it’s just-“ Steve shook his head, trying to focus on shifting gears rather than their conversation, which was one he desperately didn’t want to have. He didn’t want to tell Bucky how ashamed he was of himself, how his guilt was burning up and down his throat and deep into his stomach and how he wanted to throw it up until he felt empty and purged.

“It’s what I’ve become. I get it, Stevie, I get it. I-“ Bucky threw up his arms in surrender. “We can split ways if you want. I just wanna make sure you have some place safe and then I’ll leave and leave you to… a better life. Without me.” His voice was starting to sound like it had on that night, not the spaghetti night, but the other one. The one Steve had been so goddamn wrong about that his cheeks were burning even now when he thought back to it.

“Buck, it’s not you. It’s me. It’s my fault that this happened to you and I wish I could-“

“Stop the car.” It was quiet, but it was an order and Steve followed it without question.

He pulled the car to the side of the road and got out. The first rays of a watery March sun kissed his skin as he walked around the side of the car and sat on the hood, unsure if he was going to be able to keep upright in his heels.

Suddenly Bucky was standing between his thighs, his face half shadowed, and Steve swallowed hard. The hunger was still there, still as great as it had been when all the men had been staring at Steve, undressing him with their eyes, _wanting_ him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bucky whispered, grabbing Steve’s thighs with strong hands and spreading them wider, pushing them up against his chest. “It was not your fault, doll, and I never want to hear such a thing from you again.”

And then he was kissing all the thoughts Steve might have had from his lips, turning them into desperate, mindless moans and sobs. Fisting his hands in Bucky’s hair, he pulled him closer. God, how he’d missed Bucky’s weight on top of him, grounding him and holding him in the moment. He didn’t even mind the cool metal of the car pressing against his back or the skirt of his dress hitched up to his hips. He only needed more of this.

Bucky reached between them, palming Steve through his underpants. Steve’s toes curled for a moment, and he bucked up against Bucky’s hand. “Don’t tease. We’re in the middle of a road and I-“

Another kiss silenced him, made him stop thinking about roads and people and everything but Bucky’s hand between his thighs and his tongue curling against Steve’s. After several breathless minutes they finally broke apart and Bucky yanked down Steve’s underwear almost a little too hard, making it burn his skin deliciously.

“I’ve only ever loved you, you stupid bastard.” His voice was a growl and Steve knew this wasn’t going to be gentle, which suited him just fine.

“I never needed you to save me, jerk.” Surging up, he sucked Bucky’s lip between his teeth, almost biting him. “There would’ve been a million better ways of doing this.”

“Like what, letting you die?” Bucky brought his fingers up to Steve’s lips and Steve sucked them in without question, letting his tongue play over them like it was Bucky’s cock he was trying to coax into full hardness. A moment later, Bucky pulled them back and Steve felt the slick press of one against his hole. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t going to open him up, but it would have to be. He could tell that Bucky wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer, but neither would he. Jerking his hips forward, he showed him what he wanted.

“Just fuck me. I won’t break. You don’t mind breaking me anyway.”

With only the tip of his finger buried in Steve now, Bucky leaned forward. His breath caressed Steve’s ear when he whispered: “I made a mistake because I wanted to save your sorry ass. Stop holding it against me, doll, or I’ll have to tell you some things you might not want to hear about your own vanity and pride.”

With a sudden thrust, he brought his finger forward and Steve moaned, wanton, needy, and he didn’t give a damn what he looked or sounded like. Biting his lipstick-red bottom lip, he looked up at Bucky through his lashes. “Are you gonna keep going at this pace or will you fuck me some time this year?”

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you, baby? Spreading your legs so prettily for me. Tell yourself you don’t need me all you want, doll, but you do need me. Need me bad, huh?”

Shivers were fizzing down Steve’s spine, turning him to liquid need at the sound of Bucky’s voice, at the sinful pictures he was painting with his tongue. He spread his legs wider and finally Bucky slipped a second finger into him, spreading him open, keeping him full. Bucky paused because they both knew that no matter what Steve said, he wouldn’t be able to actually take Bucky without proper prep. Looking down to where their bodies were so precariously joined, Steve writhed, his hips drawing small circles as he fucked himself back against Bucky’s fingers.

“I always need you. But you weren’t there,” he gasped, even as Bucky scissored his fingers inside of him, spreading him open, laying everything inside of him bare with his touch, with the things his eyes were saying while his mouth was shut. “I needed you and you thought gallivanting off with those guys would help. I didn’t need your money, idiot. Just needed you.”

“Well, sorry for keeping you alive. Won’t make that mistake again in the future, bitch.” Bucky’s fingers were thrusting harder into him now, almost to the point of hurting, but Steve didn’t care. Arching his back, he opened himself further up to Bucky. The hood of the car was cool against his thighs where the dress had ridden up high enough to expose his skin, but he didn’t feel it, not really. All he wanted to feel in that moment was Bucky slipping a third finger into him, fucking him until his balls felt impossibly tight and his cock jerked despite never having been touched at all.

“I won’t stay alive for much longer if you don’t fuck me right now.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” Bucky whispered against his lips before crushing their mouths together again. Steve whimpered against his lips, lost to the pleasure of being filled, fucked and owned in a way he hadn’t been in far too long.

“Stop flapping your gums,” he bravely whispered when he finally heard Bucky’s belt buckles scraping the ground and then he was no longer capable of speaking at all.

Pinning Steve’s legs against the windshield, Bucky stepped closer. Steve’s body was taut, was quivering, was so close and yet not close enough. The pleasure inside of him had been building and building until it had no more room to grow. He needed Bucky and he needed him now, but he only kept pumping his fingers in and out of Steve, almost gently now. He looked up at him and there was an expression in his eyes that made shivers spread all over Steve’s body, hardening his nipples into tight peaks.

“I love you like this, doll,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s ear. “You want it so badly, don’t you? But you’re too proud to beg.”

Steve wasn’t, in fact, too proud to beg, but he could still keep it in for a little bit longer. He wasn’t that desperate, not yet.

“Well, it’s a good thing for me that you want it just as badly then.”

Finally Bucky pulled back his fingers, spat in his hand and rubbed himself. It was messy, there wasn’t enough preparation or tenderness in any of this, but it would have to do. When he finally moved forward, thrusting into Steve’s body, it was enough. The burn only became part of the overpowering sensation of coming home, of being right where he was supposed to be.

And when Bucky’s lips found his, there was no more need for words. They kept rocking against each other, all anger and fear forgotten for the moment. This was what they had always been best at. This was what Steve had missed; this sense of belonging, Bucky’s weight on top of him, Bucky’s voice telling him what to do. After a while Bucky let go of Steve’s wrists and his hands immediately went to Bucky’s hips, pulling him closer.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, doll. I always do when you’re not around.” He nuzzled Steve’s neck, gently rocking into him, opening him up further. Steve felt his make-up smear with sweat and tears and he didn’t care.

“Buck, I need you.”

“I know.” Lifting Steve’s legs over his shoulders, he started thrusting in earnest, melding their bodies together by sheer force of will until there was no breath between them, no air to slide over their heated bodies and he’d spent every shred of emotion inside of Steve.


	5. Chapter 5

“And I’m telling you, you’re doing it wrong. There’s no need to treat the car like this. What has it ever done to offend you like that?” Steve kept reaching for the steering wheel and Bucky kept slapping his hands aside, growing more agitated over time. They’d been at it for the past two hours when they’d started driving through the small towns of Norther Virginia, the kind of town where a woman behind the wheel would draw attention. Steve had taken the passenger seat with a pout and less elegance than appropriate for his attire, flopping down in an undignified heap.

With the first rush of relief at Bucky’s escape over, Steve was finding himself increasingly at odds with… just about anything. He hated the way his knobbly knees showed under the skirt of his dress, he hated the way Bucky would leave all of his trash in the car. And he especially hated the way they weren’t talking about anything important.

The last couple of days they had been steadfastly ignoring their larger issues, simply enjoying the new sights and sounds instead. Neither of them had ever actually left the city before. They probably should have been feeling a lot more in awe of how big their world had suddenly become, but at the moment Steve was too busy trying to just stay alive that he really didn’t need to worry about anything else, including his anger at the situation.

“What do you want me to do then?” Bucky snapped, the fingers of his left hand tightening on the wheel, making it creak in protest.

“You treat it gently and with respect. A V8 Ford is like a keen dame you’re trying to score a second date with.”

“Thank God I knew you before we started dating or I would have never gotten that second date.”

Running his free hand through his hair, Bucky glared at the road ahead of them. Steve followed his gaze uncertainly, wondering why it had earned Bucky’s anger. It didn’t look any different from the myriads of other roads they had been driving on to get here. Kreuzer had said this would work wonders for their relationship, would give them time to talk it all out, but so far that hadn’t turned out to be the case. They weren’t talking about anything that mattered. They still had sex, mostly in the car now that they had returned to civilization, and it was objectively the best sex they’d ever had in their relationship up to this point, but it wasn’t enough.

“I don’t think I’d date you anymore if I had to choose again,” Steve said, exhaustion loosening his tongue in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Bucky didn’t stop the car although Steve could tell that he wanted to. The rigid set of his jaw and shoulders gave him away to those who knew him.

“Told you, doll, we can always go our separate ways. I don’t mind.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve said, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them, abandoning the meagre rest of lady-like behaviour. “If we hadn’t started dating, none of this would’ve happened. It’s my fault, I guess. I don’t even know anymore.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Bucky turned his right hand palm up, offering himself to Steve in a way Steve wasn’t sure he could accept. Bucky looked so vulnerable in that moment, so young. But things had changed, things they still weren’t addressing, and he was scared. Still, he gently took Bucky’s fingers, intertwining them with his. The warmth seeping through Bucky’s skin made him feel a little better, a little more grounded.

“I love you, Stevie.”

That had always been enough, enough to keep the both of them going through Steve’s illnesses, through Bucky’s unemployment and all the rest of it. They had stood together under Bucky’s parents’ disapproving glance, their fingers intertwined just as they were now, and it had been enough. They’d moved into their first crappy apartment together that afternoon, high on their own courage and defiance. They hadn’t had anything to eat in almost a week, but it hadn’t mattered. But maybe there came a point in a relationship where love just wasn’t enough.

Bringing Bucky’s hand up to rest on his own knees, Steve tried to relax into this, into their feeble attempts at keeping it all together. He couldn’t. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Buck. I love you, too, that’s not it. It’s just that-“ He broke off, knowing that if he actually said it, said that he wasn’t sure if it was enough, he might lose Bucky when he wasn’t sure he was ready to lose him.

“You know, when those people had me, there was one thing that kept me going. It was you.”

Bucky never spoke of his time with his kidnappers and Steve started breathing through his nose, not wanting to break this moment, not wanting it to turn from a possibility into a reality.

“It was you, Stevie. I’ve never stopped loving you, you know. I know I love you more than you love me and it’s never bothered me before. It’s just the way it’s always been. I don’t know. It’s probably pathetic, but I can’t help it.”

Steve wished he could say something, could make his stupid, useless tongue move, but it wouldn’t. Because Bucky probably wasn’t wrong about any of this. A year ago, Steve would have told Bucky he was crazy and there was no way in hell he could ever love Steve as much as Steve loved him, but that had been then and this was a cruel, new _now_. The sort of now that made the past seem like an irrelevant footnote of history – something that might have been great if it hadn’t been marred by everything that followed.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m really sorry. I wish I could change the way I feel, but I can’t. I’m-I’m incredibly grateful to have you back. I was-“ He waved his hand in a vague gesture, trying to show Bucky what it was that he’d been doing. “I was out of my mind. I couldn’t focus on anything but looking for you. I wasn’t sure what to do once I’d found you, but I wanted to give you a piece of my mind and now I can’t because you’re hurt and people kidnapped you.”

“You can be mad at me, Steve, it’s not forbidden. You can give me a piece of your mind or slap me or whatever you need to do to feel better, but don’t treat me like you’re leaving me without ever following through. Either stay or leave, but don’t keep me on my toes like this. We’re past that, aren’t we?”

Of course they were. It wasn’t like Steve was doing any of this just to hurt Bucky. He just didn’t know anymore. He’d been spending almost a week in this car and he was ready to get the hell out of it. But they were in Virginia still and it was too close to home for comfort. They couldn’t stop running until they’d reached Mexico and even then it might only be a temporary solution. Kreuzer had been very clear on that point: the people who had kidnapped Bucky were dangerous.

“I don’t want to leave you, Buck.” His voice sounded a lot more honest than he felt, but it was just as well. He didn’t want to be lying, but if he had to, he wanted it to be as convincing as possible. “I just want things to get better. I want us to be able to talk about everything that’s happened between the two of us.”

The memory came suddenly, unbidden and no matter how hard Steve pushed back, tried to force it out of his mind, it wouldn’t. It was going to play out and he was going to watch it and there was absolutely nothing he could do about that.

 

_Steve’s legs felt like someone had attached iron-weights to the hems of his pants. Every coughing, wheezing step carried him further up the stairs, but the stairs seemed to be expanding and growing, the top always just out of reach. He knuckled his eyes, forcing himself to keep going. Once he was up there, he’d just curl up on the couch and leave dinner to Bucky. He felt a bit guilty about this, but it was no use trying to do much of anything while he was in this state. He’d only make things worse for everyone._

_Mrs Miller, with baby Nick on her hip, stepped out of her door. “Steve, why don’t you come in for a bit?” Baby Nick gave Steve a surly look and Steve grinned despite himself._

_“As much as I love Nick’s charming company, I have to get upstairs. I’m really tired. But I’ll be sure to drop by later, Mrs Miller.”_

_“No, Steve, I _really_ think you should come in.” She reached out with her calloused red fingers, firmly planting them on Steve’s elbow. Mrs Miller had never touched him like this before. “I’ll make you some _schnitzel_. You like meat, don’t you? All you boys do.”_

_“I-I would be honoured, but-“ Something wasn’t right. No one gave away meat for free, not in this economy, and Mrs Miller didn’t touch people, especially not men, without a reason. “Is there something wrong? Is something wrong with-“_

_Bucky. Of course. Something might have happened at the factory. There were all kinds of grisly accidents you could get into there and maybe Bucky was lying upstairs in bed, tended to by their neighbours when it was Steve he needed the most._

_He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, stumbled, bumped his knees, got up and ran until he had practically torn the front door from its hinges. And then he knew why Mrs Miller had been so nice to him and why even Baby Nick hadn’t looked quite as angry as he usually did._

_Big Joe had Bucky up against the wall, grunting as he fucked him, murmuring things in Italian that Steve didn’t even want to understand. Although a sick part of him did want to know what had Bucky moaning the way he did, what made him dig his fingers into Joe’s hairy back._

_He must have made a noise of some kind because suddenly the grunting and moaning and digging stopped like someone had dragged their nails over a blackboard. He caught a sliver of blue eye, the shocked ‘o’ of Bucky’s lips and then he was running back the way he’d come, all the way, until he was sitting in Mrs Miller’s kitchen chair, shoveling schnitzel into his mouth and trembling and crying until Baby Nick kicked him in the shin._

 

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Steve whispered, slowly dragging his mind back from the past and into the present where he was still a prisoner without bars. “You liked what Joe was doing to you.”

That was what had been bothering him all along, that was the one detail he couldn’t push out of his mind. Perhaps you could fake a moan (although Steve wouldn’t have known how to) and perhaps you could fake arousal, but you couldn’t fake the little things; toes curling, fingers digging into thick muscle, sweat pearling against Bucky’s neck.

“Steve, is this really what you want to talk about?” Bucky asked after a moment of silence. “There are other things we might have to discuss. More… urgent things.” He lifted his left arm, wriggling his fingers a little. “Like this.”

“No. I don’t care about that. That’s not what I want to talk about.” Steve wrapped his arms around himself more tightly, shaking again. The memory of Bucky clinging to Joe, of wrapping his legs around him more tightly to draw him in would never go away completely, but he needed them to if he wanted to have a chance at making this relationship work. “You enjoyed it. You wanted it. It wasn’t just about the money and I want you to admit that. I _need_ you to admit that.”

Bucky still wouldn’t stop the car and Steve was all right with that really because he didn’t want to do this once they had stopped moving, once even the illusion of progress had been taken from him.

“I did,” Bucky rasped. “I did because…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t need to be careful in that moment. I didn’t need to make sure that nothing happened to Joe because I didn’t care about him and because he wasn’t sick. I could just… let it all go for once.”

Steve could tell that it cost Bucky everything to admit to this and some save part of him revelled in Bucky’s pain. Let him have a taste of his own medicine, that part said. Let him feel what it’s like to have your entire relationship turn out to be a lie.

“I’ve always told you I didn’t care if you hurt me. Let’s be real, we both knew that I was never gonna die in my bed from old age. I was always gonna-“

“No! No, Stevie, no. You ain’t gonna die from any of the shit your body’s been throwing at you. You’ve survived this far and I can’t let you-“

“You liked it.”

The words were like poison in hastily cleaned wounds, tearing them all open again, wider this time, and Steve knew he could’ve stopped it, but he didn’t want to. He wanted it to hurt so he could leave it behind, could finally get over this feeling of needing Bucky. It probably wasn’t going to work, but he had to at least put up a nominal protest over his own treatment. He had to or he was going to feel pathetic for the rest of his life.

“I liked it, but that’s not why I did it. I did it for _you_ , Stevie. So we’d have money for medicine. You were coming back from the doctor’s and someone had to pay for that, right? Turns out that you don’t really have anyone else, but me. It was either me or it was you dying or falling into the hands of a loan shark and I wasn’t terribly happy about any of those possibilities.”

“But before that I could trust you and now I can’t.” Steve couldn’t stop now that his tongue had loosened. He had to keep speaking, had to let it all out for once. That he had been hurt, too. That it wasn’t just Bucky who had made a noble sacrifice and who had been kidnapped in China Town. Steve had lost something vital and integral to his life, too. And he was never gonna get it back. “I can’t forget about it. I tried to. I thought that it wouldn’t matter. That it _shouldn’t_ matter, but it really, really does. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know if I can ever look at you again and feel like, I dunno, you aren’t on the verge of leaving because I can’t do those things with you. Or because _you_ won’t do them.”

He wasn’t looking at Bucky anymore, unable to watch the emotions play out over his features. If this was the end, then he didn’t want to watch it happening.

“I won’t do them because I love you, Steve. I can’t hurt you just for five minutes of pleasure.”

“It’s longer than five minutes.”

And suddenly they were both laughing, like this was the best joke ever. Steve finally pulled back his hand, remembering that he’d been holding it all along. Leaning in, he kissed Bucky’s cheek instead. “I’m gonna try, Buck. But I can’t make any promises at this point. Maybe there’s enough of us left to save, but I just don’t know. And there’s some things we still need to talk about. But it can wait, I suppose.”

“They’re gonna have to wait, doll, cause I’m taking you dancing.”

And that was that.


End file.
